


Artists

by im_the_king_of_the_ocean



Series: Rarepairs Week 2K18 [5]
Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Redemption, and figuring out how to be okay again, but moving beyond that, healing from past traumas, lashing out because you've been hurt badly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 04:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16422035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_king_of_the_ocean/pseuds/im_the_king_of_the_ocean
Summary: Morgana never expected to fall out of the Shadow Realm.  Nor did she expect she'd ever be given a second chance or that very old pains and traumas could be healed.





	Artists

**Author's Note:**

> This one is an experimentation with Morgana's character and with giving her a redemption arc. 
> 
> It does have some dark elements. I imply Merlin hurt Morgana extremely badly in the past. I don't specify what he did specifically, but it's enough that it caused her to hate the world and attempt to destroy it as a way of lashing out. Overall though, this story is about healing, coping, and moving on from bitterness and hate.
> 
> Please read with this in mind.
> 
> Also, it was originally conceived as an entry into Rarepairs Week, but I feel it no longer really fits into that.

There is merit, Morgana believes, in calling anger the emotion of fire.

The way it feels.Like a constant burning under the skin.The ever growing-ache to lash out because, _I’m suffering so you shall too_.

It is so very, very easy to let it take control.

Morgana had once, and, as a result, the world almost burned.She delighted at the prospect at the time.This world, _this vile place_ , bore witness to the horrors that happened to her, to what _Merlin_ did to her, and yet.And yet, it held him revered while content to cast her aside like she was _nothing_ _._

No, this world deserved to suffer.It deserved _pain_.It deserved agony.It deserved to feel _her wrath._ And she would bring it.

Or she would have if a _certain wizard_ hadn’t entrapped her in Janus-forsaken Heartstone.

It brought Morgana great satisfaction to see that reprehensible, barely-magical crystal wither and crumble away.For centuries, it was her prison and for centuries it sapped her energy away and fed it to the trolls.It had taken ceaselessly and mercilessly from her over and over again.Just like _him_.She would not mourn its loss when its very magic was stolen from _her_ to begin with.

When she fell into darkness, after her defeat in that final battle, Morgana took satisfaction in the fact she managed to rid the world of one loathsome, unworthy thing.At least, this way, she could spend eternity drifting through shadows knowing she’d accomplished something.

She never expected to fall out of the Shadow Realm.

To see the moon shimmering high above, or the stars.To hear an owl hoot as it silently flew over her.

To stumble around like a pathetic, lost, little lamb.

Without magic.Without dignity.

Morgana did not think she’d be found either.

Yet she was.By the mother of Merlin’s latest champion, no less.Morgana anticipated the mortal woman to strike a death blow.She would be justified in doing so.Morgana was many things, but she could admit when she’d been defeated.When whether she lived or died was a choice for another to make now.Perhaps a part of her even desired the end after so long.

The last thing she predicted was to be helped into the mortal woman’s home.

There could be no denying Morgana’s identity.Her armor may be dull, but she’d always taken pride in how distinctive it was.How unique.No one could question it and, by extension, her.

The mortal woman had to know just who she’d welcomed into her house, and all the terrible, terrible things that came with that.

They were no longer lies either.

In the beginning, when she still believed in justice, Morgana told the truth.She’d laid out Merlin’s crimes with the expectation that society would hold him accountable, as their laws and decrees so often stated they would for such matters.

They’d called her a liar, a whore.Attention-seeking slut.Shame on her for trying to bring down the very generous man who’d given her an education in the first place.

Somewhere along the lines, the lies overwhelmed her.So, she embraced them.They saw her as a destroyer?She would show them exactly what that means.

Morgana had worn the mask so long, it was a strange feeling when it came off.A shock, really.

She’s lost in thought as the mortal woman completes her “medical examination”.Let the poor dear do as she pleases while Morgana plots her next move.

So deep in thought is she, Morgana doesn’t notice when the mortal woman figures out how to take off her helmet.In a shocking move, the sorceress’s dark brown hair tumbles down around her shoulders.It is extremely long now, never having been tended while she was the Pale Lady.

Morgana stares at the armor separated from her for the first time in a very long time.It’s odd, how it no longer weighs on her head.She feels strangely light, like she might go floating away.She looks up into the first face to see, to _truly_ see, her own in millennia.

The mortal woman seems perplexed that a human woman could have existed beneath the armor, but her gaze is steady regardless.She offers a tentative smile, and goes off to make them tea.

Which is horrible, so horrible.

Morgana spit out the liquid upon first sip.

But the mortal woman only laughs.She sits down next to Morgana and tells her her name is Barbara.Morgana doesn’t admit she already knew that, as she’d once seen both the name and the mortal woman’s face in the deepest desires of another.When she offered to warp them in exchange for something she wanted.Morgana may not know the social customs of this century, but even she still knew admitting that would not go well for her.

Then Barbara asks for her name and Morgana finds herself in a state of confusion.She is _Morgana_.The Pale Lady.Baba Yaga.Queen of Shadows.Surely Barbara knows who she is and that asking is pointless?

Again, Barbara asks what she should call her.Something uneasy sits in Morgana’s gut.It occurs to her she doesn’t _have_ to use any of her names anymore.

“Anna.Call me Anna,” she finally answers.Maybe in another reality, it was the name of someone she cared for once, but she’d never admit that here and now.

Barbara gives her a blanket and a pillow and tells her she can sleep on the couch.

Something, something peculiar, starts that night.

In the coming days, Morgana finds Barbara does not fear her.It’s odd.Morgana doesn’t trust it.The mortal woman has to have a secret agenda lurking.Something Morgana just hasn’t figured out yet.

She traps Barbara against the wall in the kitchen one morning and commands she reveal her ulterior motive.

Barbara gazes at her, cooly and unperturbed, and tells her there isn’t one.She’s a doctor.She will not harm someone, even if she doesn’t wholly like her.Barbara’s job is one of healing, of second chances.Barbara is willing to give Morgana that chance.

“I don’t deserve it,” Morgana snaps, but, without magic, she can’t truly make a threat.

Barbara replies, “That may be so, but I’m still willing to give you the opportunity to prove me wrong.”

“Then you are a fool.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”Barbara shrugs.

Something about that infuriates Morgana more, but she lets Barbara go regardless.

Barbara is a fool, Morgana determines, but she’s a fool who has shown undue kindness to her.Therefore, she is a fool worthy of protection.

Mostly from herself.It is an oddity how Barbara has managed on her own this long when she is inept at so much.The doctor disregards simple cleaning tasks like the dishes, seems to fall into an absent state of mind almost every day, which causes her to leave personal items absolutely _everywhere_ , and, well, Morgana isn’t even going to touch the whole topic of Barbara’s cooking.

She’s the greatest sorceress who ever lived.She deserves to eat better.

Morgana falls into the habit of tidying things.The repetition of the tasks is almost soothing.Relaxing.She’s used to like order, once upon a time.Back in the happy days when she’d spend hours reshelving her library or labeling her various potions and elixirs.

Though, she still puts her foot down and orders Barbara start cleaning up after herself after she’s been a house guest long enough and she’s certain Barbara won’t throw her out for the action.

She doesn’t want to be thrown out, Morgana realizes, and then spends hours puzzling over the realization.Eventually, she sums it up to her internal need for protection now that her magic is gone.As long as she’s here, she’s safe.If she goes, she will be in danger.So, it is in her best interest to stay.That is all.

She doesn’t _like_ fostering a relationship with Barbara.It’s just in her best interests of self-preservation.That’s _all_.

Still, Morgana surmises, there are likely worse humans she could be trapped with than one who gives her able amounts of space and doesn’t seek out conversation with her too frequently.

The only time they really spend together is when they’re in the basement, painting, anyway.At first, Morgana can’t see what could be so appealing about putting globs of colored—what exactly _is_ paint anyway?It couldn’t be like the powders and dyes she knew in the past.Regardless of whatever the stuff was, it could hardly serve a purpose.

And then she paints for the first time, and it’s nice?Or at least her joining Barbara in doing the activity seems to make the other woman like her just a bit more, which is good.But the more she paints, the more Morgana finds she wants to paint.

She starts with simple subjects, but advances quickly to more complex things.Her topics range from dark to outright violent after Barbara encourages her to express what she feels.

Barbara is perturbed, which hurts.

But this darkness, this _wickedness_ , is what’s inside Morgana.Anger.Hate.Loathing. _Vengeance._ Wounds that will never be healed accompanied by a continuous pulsing pain.The only escape from which has always been lashing out at the world and relishing in its suffering too.

At least until she paints the aching emotions away.

It’s odd, but the more she expresses the darkness, the less Morgana actually feels it.

It’s not magic.It’s not a spell.But, somehow, painting them all out banishes the whispers in her head telling her to destroy.

In their place grows a very different feeling.It can’t be happiness.That’s impossible.Morgana lost the ability to feel that a long, long time ago.

Whatever it is, it’s nice.

Morgana finds herself spending more and more time with Barbara these days.Not necessarily because she _has_ to, but because she wants to.It’s peculiar.But what’s even stranger is that she wants Barbara to want to be around her too.Morgana _wants_ the other woman to like—not fear—her.She wants the doctor to enjoy spending time with her.She wants—no, she doesn’t want _that_.

Affection is preposterous.Even if it makes for a nice fantasy when Morgana forgets to guard against it.

It’s late one night, after the movie they were watching ends and Barbara is curled up next to her on the couch fast asleep, that Morgana comes to an important realization.

The sorceress gazes down at the sleeping mortal using her at a pillow.It occurs to her that, for the first time in centuries, she wants to build something—with _someone_ —instead of tearing it apart.

_I love her more than I want to destroy the world._


End file.
